Peaceful Poetry to Love Your Societal Conscienceness

New York City, 1999

I am the ghost of Amadou Diallo
watching my body get riveted
with 19 of 41 bullets, pumping into me-
seeing
the speed of the whiteman's bullets
castrating my blackness,
bold faces hidden by smoking gun barrels-
and a pile of blue-collar policemens' uniforms
neatly folded in the trunk of an unmarked car.

My frightened hand clutches desperately
at my wallet-
then slowly opens lifeless
like Christ's outstretched arms
after hearing the blasphemous word shouted
GUNNNNNNNNNNNNN!
Who can understand the fear of policemen?
Am I the victim and they the perpetrators?
What language do I speak?
What do the other immigrants say?

My door vestibule is where I stood.
A night silence ached
when my face did not glow.
The sidewalks are bloody now;
I was slaughtered like a brown cow.
Allah, help my people now-
please sweet Allah....

By Lisa Rhodes